never left his lips: he talked himself
into another body: he found his room again
It was written.
falls from his eye
and blooms in a stranger’s mouth.
rhymes with hunger
and cannot leave its egg.
the orphan in tatters,
he will hold
a small black flag
riddled with winter.
It is spring,
and below his window
a hundred white stones
turn to raging phlox.
To celebrate National Poetry Month and in appreciation of the many cancelled book launches and tours, we are happy to present an April Celebration: 30 Presses/30 Poets (#ArmchairBookFair). Please join us every day for new poetry from the presses that sustain us.
“Scribe” by Paul Auster, from WHITE SPACES,
Copyright © 1972, 1974, 1976, 1977, 1980, 1982, 2020 by Paul Auster.
Use by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.
“Magnificent poetry; dark, severe, even harsh—yet pulsating with life.”
“From the spook of ‘Spokes’ and the parabolic philosophical chiaroscuro of ‘White Spaces’ to the gnomic sighs of what’s in between, Paul Auster’s poems shimmer at the edges with audacious grace and uncanny soulfulness.”
“Anyone interested in the origins of Paul Auster’s art, its ground, will find these intense early sequences, these liminal austerities, of great interest. Auster’s is a poetry of extreme lyric condensation.”